No! Saveen backpedaled, moving through air as thick as sludge. Fear lent him strength. Every breath was shorter than the last, and he fought for each one. His chest felt like it would cave in. One step, two—then he was free and gulping down air, his link with Mama restored, but Sarn was still frozen between those two rings of stones.
Ran huddled against the backs of his legs, gripping fistfuls of his father’s cloak. Light sheathed his trembling body as a green ray passed over Sarn. It couldn’t reach Ran thanks to Sarn’s magic and Saveen blew out a relieved breath until he felt eyes upon him. Someone had witnessed his failed attempt to cross and glimpsed what he was.
Saveen met the concerned eyes of the cross-toting stranger. Revelations danced in his eyes. He knew Saveen wasn’t human. Saveen opened his mouth to ask if he’d keep that a secret, but the words couldn’t pass mama’s magical gag. Nor did they need to.
The man in white nodded. Saveen’s secret was safe. His shoulders slumped in relief until he realized he couldn’t cross. He couldn’t go with Sarn and his son to see the Queen Tree without risking the secrecy that kept him alive and the link with his Mama. That price was too high.
A tear rolled down his scaly face. I wanted to see her.
If you keep hanging out with mages, I’m sure you will, someday, Mama said, but her voice was distant, and it faded in and out of his mind.
Mama?
Stay away from the mountain, son. There’s something dark under it, and it’s hunting. Be safe my Heart. Then her mind-voice was gone.
You too, Mama, he sent hoping she heard him. She must be safe. She was so far from people. But I should check. I only have one mama. And he’d seen how much losing a mother hurt Ran.
“Tell them I’m sorry,” Saveen mumbled as he pivoted and rushed toward Mount Eredren, though he wasn’t sure what he was apologizing for.
Sarn stumbled into the ten-foot no man’s land between the two circles of menhirs and slammed into another invisible wall. This one caught him like a giant web. Ran crashed into the backs of his legs and wrapped his arms around them as something scanned Sarn.
Magic leaped out of his back and wrapped around Ran, shielding him from the scan as it finished its pass. Then the gleaming web parted and Sarn staggered through the second circle of menhirs with Ran at his heels and collapsed. The world spun around him, and it was shot through with colored lights.
“Papa!” Ran plowed into his side, his green eyes desperate.
“I told you to run.”
“Yes, you did, but I go with you, always.” Ran clasped his hand tight and leaned into his leg.
Sarn shook his head, then regretted it when the world spun faster. “Loyal to a fault and stubborn, just like me.” He touched his son’s face and wiped away a stray tear. Ran turned his face into his unblemished palm and nodded.
“Are you okay, Papa?”
“I just need a minute.”
“Come, sinner, thy time is nigh.”
The command hammered Sarn and he sat down hard on the leaf-covered ground. Fire licked the inside of his left arm—the Adversary’s taint was spreading. His legs didn’t want to hold him up, and he didn’t blame them. His head felt like it was bursting open. Something was crawling down his face. He touched it and his hand came away bloody. Not another nose bleed.
“Is Papa okay?” Ran clung to Sarn but addressed his question to J.C., who could only shake his head.
“Come, sinner, thy time is nigh.” The voice echoed in his bones and they groaned as Sarn tried to rise and do as he was bid.
No, I must go to her. She called me. But she wasn’t calling anymore. The Queen of All Trees must be in grave danger.
“Come, sinner, to your dark Father fly. At my side, thy time is nigh,” insisted that voice, drowning out all other sounds.
No, Sarn tried again to stand but strong hands pushed him down. “Let me up.”
J.C. knelt beside them, his face a mask of concern. “I think you should sit here a moment.”
“No, I must go to her, now.”
“Who are you trying to go to?”
“The Queen Tree,” Ran popped up between them again and claimed Sarn’s lap.
“Come, sinner, to your dark Father fly. At my side, thy time is nigh.”
No, I belong to my son, my brother, my masters—Nolo and Jerlo—and you aren’t them. Get out of my head! Sarn punched the ground. Green lightning snaked across his fist as it plowed a shallow furrow in the earth, showering them with dirt.
“Papa, what’s wrong?”
“Who’s calling me? I keep hearing this insistent voice in my head.” Sarn rubbed the bridge of his nose but it didn’t soothe the ache bludgeoning him between the eyes every time he disobeyed that voice.
“What voice? I don’t hear anything.” Ran glanced around as if the speaker might be standing behind him.
“He’s worn many names, but most call him just ‘the Adversary.’”
“Who or what is this ‘Adversary?'” Sarn asked, hoping this time he'd get an answer.
“Someone your ancestors locked out of your world a long time ago, but part of him is here, causing mischief. Look at me. Let me see what hooks he’s got into you.”
Sarn shook his head and removed J.C.’s hand from his arm. “Why’d they lock him out? What did he do?”
“He started the last mage war and almost destroyed your world. I think your bards remember it as the ‘Crystal Wars.’”
Sarn stared at J.C. in shock.
“Papa, what's a war?”
“When a lot of people fight against each other—so many, you can't count them all.”
That didn't satisfy his son, so he turned his question on J.C.
“War is a heartbreaking undertaking. It destroys lives, homes, and livelihoods, and leaves people widowed, orphaned, homeless, maimed or unemployed. It's a terrible act and should only be declared if there's no other way. But such distressing talk isn't helping anyone. Let me see what he's done to you. Look at me.”
Sarn shook his head. “I can’t. Strange things happen when people look me in the eye. I see things and they see them too.”
Ran frowned. “But I look you in the eye all the time and I don’t see things.”
“You’re immune because you’re my son.” Sarn tousled his son’s hair, but the boy’s brow remained furrowed.
“But I have your eyes. Everyone says so. And people look me in the eye all the time, but nothing happens.” Ran gave him a triumphant look.
“Your eyes don’t glow. I think it has something to do with that.” Sarn looked away, this conversation had taken an uncomfortable turn. “Why don’t you hate or fear me?”
Though after hearing about the Adversary, the question seemed silly. But he needed to know because J.C.’s reaction was atypical.
J.C. smiled. “Because my Father taught me to love my neighbor.”
“Your father sounds like a wise man.”
“He’s the wisest man I know.” J.C.’s smile flipped to a frown. “Now, let me see.”
Sarn shook his head and winced as that dark voice invaded his mind again, leaving a compulsion behind, but he fought it. “It’s not my eyes you need to see, but my hand.” Sarn held his marked palm out.
J.C.’s touch quenched the fire burning in his fingers. “Hmm, this isn’t good.”
“I know. We’ll get help.”
“And answers,” Ran reminded him.
“That too.”
“Come, sinners, the hour of my power is here. Shadows writhe and shadows weave, chains to bind the ones dear to me. Bring them here, my dark friends, bring all the sinners to their rightful end.”
“What is that?” Ran pointed at the shadows accreting under the boughs of the enchanted trees.
“Trouble, where’s Saveen?” Sarn glanced around as he stood up, but Saveen was gone.
“He had trouble crossing, so he went back.” J.C. nodded to Mount Eredren. “We should follow his lead.”
“No, I need to go to her.
She can undo this.” Sarn pointed to the black marks on his hand. At J.C.’s quizzical look, Sarn elaborated. “The Queen of All Trees—she called. The last time she did that, something awful happened in the forest, and I had to right it.”
Sarn regarded the disjointed loops covering his hand. They almost looked like letters. Where there were letters, there were words, and words had power. What power did these loops and swirls give the Adversary over him?
“But there’s more,” Sarn continued. The words were pouring out of him now. Something about J.C. was yanking them past his usual reticence.
“Go on.” J.C. nodded, his sharp eyes took in everything Sarn said, and dozens of things he didn't.
“This morning someone released an ancient monster. I called her, and whatever she did bought us time. But I don’t know what she bought us time for. So, you see, I must go to her. She has all the answers.”
Or did I miss something? The question pushed Sarn to his feet and spurred him into a run as he reexamined everything he remembered from the last month. As he rushed toward the conglomerating shadows, power uncurled inside him and slid down his right arm sheathing it in green flames. He chopped his glowing arm through those shadows scattering them then swung around at Ran’s call.
“Wait for me, Papa!” Ran launched himself at Sarn, and he caught the boy mid-air then resumed running for all he was worth because everything might just depend on speed.
“Come, sinner, thy time is nigh.”
Sin was a sliding scale. Those off the deep end heard his call first and stopped what they were doing. As one, they turned and shuffled toward the Ægeldar. Through their blank eyes, he watched their loved ones try to stop them.
“Fools, your beloveds belong to me.”
And his call was rooted deep in their sinning organs. It moved them like the flesh puppets they were to their dark lord and master.
“Come to me. Oh, come to me. Dark deeds await you.”
His spirit passed on, searching for more targets, more fodder to throw at the Queen of All Tree’s paltry shield. He was a shadow-bird of prey diving into the sheep—the citizens of this mountain—and plucking the blackest souls for his own entourage. His claws closed on them then he soared back up with his prize, reveling in the power of sin to enslave—until a divine vibration interfered with the perfect reverberations of his summons.
No, he can’t be here. The Adversary dipped his wing and wheeled. He shot through the Lower Quarters, banked left to enter a stair and spiraled up it, snuffing out the light of faith in those stupid enough to share the staircase with him.
“Dark tidings I bring to you and your kin. Dark tidings for sinners, I summon you to me,” the Adversary sang as he flew through the main thoroughfare turning the minds of sinners everywhere to his cause.
Everyone he passed turned as one to the nearest stair and descended. It was so beautiful seeing mankind united in one common deed. The sight brought a tear to the Adversary’s eye as he negotiated the tight turn into the arcade fronting the balcony. Pulling his wings in close to his body, he dove through an aperture and landed on a marble bench next to a giant eagle statue.
“I know, they don’t make mortals like they used to,” he said to the stone creature he leaned against. “Nor mages, or you my friend, would’ve been set free by now. But alas, that’s not to be. Such a pity really, but I’m not into charity and there’s nothing you can offer to make it worth my while to break your enchantment. Or yours,” he nodded to the unicorn statue giving him the stink eye. “Maybe I’ll move both of you into my new throne room, once I take over management of this place.”
The Adversary let the subject drop since his cursed interlocutors had nothing to contribute. Where are you Son of Man? I know you’re here. I can feel your saccharine presence polluting my new realm.
Right on cue, that divine harmony sounded again, like church bells. He covered his ears as that rhythmic ding-donging. That too sweet chiming of angels gaining their wings drove the Adversary to his knees. Make it stop. Oh, make it stop. I hate the bells
Their song disrupted his summons, freeing the less sinful sinners he’d called. And they kept on ringing, peal after horrible peal. Their reverberations droned out his call.
No! The Adversary rocked as he tried to sing a countermelody, but the bells’ song dominated his hearing and his thoughts. He couldn’t get their awful song out of his mind, so he fell to chanting.
“Come, sinners, the hour of my power is here. Shadows writhe and shadows weave, chains to bind the ones dear to me. Bring them here, my dark friends, bring all the sinners to their rightful end. Let none escape, my dark ones, or challenge their rightful end. Capture all the sinners, to them now tend."
Power exploded out of him and washed over the mountain in black waves. It shook as its protections fought his taint, but no one had tended those shields in many centuries. So their once flawless surface was now pitted and cracked in places, letting his darkness escape into the world.
But the highest level, nestled inside the mountain’s peak, a sound-proofed chapel stood between the bells of Mount Eredren and the levels below it. None of the Adversary’s questing power could breach that place nor the twelve blessed bells that rang every hour on the hour, nor the one hundred and forty-four metal tubes carrying their hateful anthem to every part of the mountain stronghold. All were warded against tampering. And those wards were renewed every Easter by the priest and Servant of the Bells. Damn him and his ancient order of do-gooders.
After sixteen peals, the bells finally stopped. The Adversary waited, but no more bells rang. Are you here or not, Son of Man? Show yourself if you are.
“Having problems?” The Ægeldar cackled.
“What do you want, beast? Can’t you see I’m busy?”
“I heard you calling and thought I’d do the polite thing and reply since I can’t leave the pit beneath this rubble pile. Nice moniker by the way—'Father of Lies’ indeed!”
More laughter followed. “Thank you for sending all your sinners to me. So thoughtful of you. I’ve planned a special welcome for them when the shield falls. I can’t wait to show it to you.”
After one more fit of laughter, the creature’s voice receded leaving behind the echoes of its merriment. The Adversary waved its nebulous threat away. The Ægeldar could plot all it wanted, but not even that second-rate tentacular horror show could spoil his plans. Laugh while you can, creature because you won’t be laughing when you see what I’ve planned.
“Why did you call me? I almost had him.” Ragnes strode onto the balcony, fists balled at his sides.
“Him, who? You almost had the mage?”
“Yes, until you called me. I couldn’t fight the summons. It tore me away from him.”
“What is his name?” The Adversary glared at his minion and peeled Ragnes’ mind revealing layers upon layers of self-deception and lies. Under all that waste, a seething jealousy squatted, and clutched in its green hands were images of a tall youth with blazing green eyes and magic in his soul.
“Ah, so his name is Sarn. Thank you for that nugget of information. Your services are no longer required. I’ll fetch him myself.”
The Adversary waved a hand dismissing his creation. The thing that once was Ragnes melted into a black puddle then flowed into the Adversary’s black hoof and was once again part of his master before he could even protest.
“Good help is so hard to find these days.” With a shrug, the Adversary turned then paused as a new thought struck him. Why hadn’t the mage come to him? I called all sinners and everyone’s a sinner, so, where is he? He can’t escape me unless he had divine help.
The Adversary leaped into the coping, and his cloven hooves clattered on the dent another demon had made on that same spot earlier that day. Black wings sprouted from his back. Each feather was steel-tipped and barbed. Where are you mageling, the Adversary asked as he launched himself into the air.
I’m coming for you, Sarn.
Dark Voices
Potential curse breaker, he corrected Himself. That gift was only partially active.
“How did you do that?” Sarn stared at him, but he was careful not to meet his gaze head-on.
“Magic sandals, I recommend them for when you’re in a hurry and I am.”
“You’re in a hurry to go to Mount Eredren? Whatever for?”
It was a fair question, Mount Eredren was far down on the list of important places in Shayari. A heavy weight pressed against J.C.’s shoulders, staggering him. What are you doing, my Adversary? Whatever it was, it was throwing off the world’s balance, making his burden too heavy to bear alone. But bear it I must for there is no one who can help me. I made that bargain long ago.
Distrust melted from those vivid green eyes and both father and son stretched out a hand to lift a burden they couldn’t touch—not directly. But their angels could. Three angels appeared behind them—one for the child in Sarn’s arms, and two for him, his guardian angel and an angel-in-training who must be Sarn’s sister for she looked like a feminized version of him. Five hands extended, and their offer lightened the load just enough, so J.C. could step backward out of reach. All three angels bowed their heads and went incorporeal since they weren’t supposed to be visible to the mortals they guarded.
“I must go to the mountain you call Eredren. I have important business there.”
More than that, he couldn’t say because the information would prejudice their decision. Sarn must decide of his own accord. God’s covenant with man guaranteed all mortals free will, and J.C. would uphold that even if it complicated his mission.
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